


The First Time

by AWriting



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Eventual Smut, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Slow Build, Some Fluff, mostly angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-15 03:15:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4590939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AWriting/pseuds/AWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bucky comes back, it's like he and Steve are doing everything for the first time again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> What? No, I'm definitely not starting another story when I haven't finished the last one. Don't be ridiculous.  
> I don't usually write Stucky, but I couldn't get it out of my head. Go easy on me, please. This is basically a series of one shots of the "first times" that Steve and Bucky experience after Bucky shows up at his apartment. Most will be from Steve's perspective, but a few might be from Bucky's. I've already got seven or eight planned but there could be more than that. I have no planned schedule for updating this. It will be updated as I write, and it'll probably be more frequent once I finish the WinterHawk story I'm already working on.  
> I'll shut up now. Hope you enjoy!

This last trip hadn't been very nice to Steve. His body is starting to give out now and his spirit is crumbling. Sam tries to cheer him up, but he knows Sam thinks they aren't going to find Bucky. And Steve's starting to agree with him. They won't ever find Bucky. At least not until he wants to be found. 

But Steve's always had a hard time letting go of things. He may have accepted that he can't win this one, but that doesn't mean he's going to stop trying. He didn't look for Bucky once and it was, as he recently found out, the biggest mistake of his abnormally long life. He's not making that mistake again. 

But he also knows that the last few times he and Sam have gone out looking, they've just been grasping at straws. Hints of whispers of rumors that the Winter Soldier might've been spotted in one place or another. He can't keep doing this to Sam. He can't keep doing this to himself. He's completely drained. And that's why he's going to tell Sam that it's time for a break. They both need it. Sam would never complain, would push as hard and as far as Steve asked him to, but the wear on him is starting to show. 

They're both quiet as they approach Steve's apartment. The whole way home Sam has been giving him pep talks, harping on every little thing that could've been a clue, and unconvincingly saying that he's sure they're getting close. They'll find Barnes next time, he's sure of it. He's always trying to keep Steve's spirits up, but even he seems to not be able to conjure up any more positivity.

            Steve takes his key out and unlocks the door quickly. Seeing his hands fiddling with the keys makes him want to draw again. He’s barely drawn at all since SHIELD fell. Since he realized Bucky was still alive. His hands used to be good for something other than killing and throwing that shield around. He wants to remember what it feels like to create something with his hands again.

            “Look, Sam,” Steve starts as he steps into the entrance way, pulling his jacket off as he walks. But then something hits him. Something’s wrong, something’s different. He can’t place it yet, but the air feels different then it usually does when he comes home. Displaced, in a way.

            The last time it felt like this was on the night that really started it all. When Fury had shown up in his apartment and then got shot by the Winter Soldier. Steve would never be able to forget that night. But that’s not the case this time. At least, he’s pretty sure. Fury had turned on his radio really loud so that he’d know someone was there. There’s no radio playing now.

            He puts a finger to his lips to keep Sam quiet and takes a few quiet steps further into the apartment. He’s really too tired for this. The bed is calling his name, but no. He has to deal with whoever decided it was a good idea to break into his apartment.

            He looks around the corner into the living room. A man is sitting there. Long, dark hair, wearing combat gear, and still as a statue. Steve’s whole body goes slack. He knows exactly who that is on the couch. Even after so much has changed, he can still recognize him immediately.

            “Bucky?” He chokes out as he steps around the corner. Standing open and vulnerable with his shield hanging by his side. Shock is overriding his defensive instincts.

            Bucky stands up and looks directly at him. His blue eyes seem to glow in the dark room. How long had he been sitting there without even turning on a light?

            Steve doesn’t register it when Sam steps halfway in front of him, blocking Bucky from getting to him. He’s too transfixed on the man staring right back at him. The room feels too still. None of them are moving, but all of their muscles are tensed and ready to spring into action.

            “Hey, Stevie,” Bucky finally says. It’s hesitant and unsure, but reminiscent of the man Steve knew. His heart stutters in his chest. Like it had stopped beating and restarted when Bucky said his name. It sounded as good coming from his lips as it had the first time Steve had heard him say it.

            “So you remember him?” Sam asks slowly, his arms crossed over his chest, trying to be intimidating even though all three people in the room know the Winter Soldier could take him down in less than a minute if he wanted to.

            Bucky nods slowly. “Yeah. I—it’s coming back.”

            “Where have you been?” Steve manages to choke out. Did he know they’ve been looking for him? Why did he hide for so long?

            “I was…around.” Bucky says, his posture still stiff and uncertain. “I was waiting. It took a while to get ‘em back. My memories. I ain’t even sure they…that they’ve all come back.”

            Just hearing Bucky talk and sound like Bucky is a balm to the wounds in Steve’s heart. It seems to kick start his system and without registering what he’s doing, he takes a step towards Bucky.

            Sam’s arm is suddenly blocking his way and he stops instinctively, his body trusting Sam’s judgment even if his mind is a little confused. He looks at Sam, but his friend’s eyes are solely fixated on Bucky, assessing the situation without the burden of almost a century of baggage.

            “Why now?” Sam demands. “Why did you decide to show up now when we’ve been looking for you for months?”

              Steve’s eyes swivel back to Bucky, realizing he really wants to know the answer to this question, too. Bucky swallows thickly, his posture finally giving way a bit as his shoulders slump. “I remembered.” He looks back and forth between Sam and Steve a few times before his eyes finally settle on Steve, pleading with him. “I remembered. ‘Til the end of the line. Right, Stevie?”

            A broken noise escapes Steve’s throat and his legs almost give out. He reaches towards Bucky, but sees the way his friend flinches away from him so he settles for saying, “Yeah, Buck. Always. ‘Til the end of the line.”

            Sam’s still wary after that, but Steve ignores him. Bucky voluntarily came back to him and that’s all he needs to know. He shows Bucky the spare room, refraining from telling him he had moved into a two bedroom hoping that Bucky would eventually be staying in the it, and gets him some comfortable clothes to wear.

            Bucky flinches every time Steve gets too close and it breaks his heart a little every time. Still, he couldn’t expect for everything to be perfect and normal the moment Bucky came back. As much as he hates to admit it, they’re practically strangers to each other now. It’ll take a while to build the trust that was once there. And Bucky is still working through things and Steve wants to help in whatever capacity he’s allowed. He has to fight down the urge over and over again to pull the man into his arms and not let go, though. His muscles twitch with the need to touch him.

            The man looks positively ragged. Once Steve turned the light on and finally got a good look at him, it was obvious that he’d been sleeping on the streets and hadn’t showered or had a change of clothes in weeks. Even Sam’s face creased in concern when he took in the greasy hair, overgrown stubble, and dirty, torn clothes.

After giving Bucky the sweatpants and t-shirt, Steve heads back to the living room where Sam is still standing with his arms crossed, clearly disapproving.

            “I’m not sure this is a good idea, man,” he says immediately when Steve returns. “We have no idea what’s going through his head or what he’ll do.”

            “I’m not turning him out, Sam.” Steve’s voice is steely. Sam means well, but he has to know that this is what Steve has been waiting for all this time. This is what he _wanted_.

            “I’m not saying turn him out,” Sam pushes. “Just take him to Fury or…or Stark or whoever can check him over and make sure his wires aren’t going to cross wrong and turn him back into a homicidal maniac.”

            “If you don’t want to be here with him, fine.” Steve grounds out between clenched teeth. “You can go back to your house and I’ll see you later.”

            “Oh, hell no,” Sam replies immediately. “There’s no way I’m leaving you by yourself with him in the house. Get me a pillow and blanket ‘cause I’m sleeping on the couch.”

            Steve huffs. It would be really easy to be mad at Sam, but he’s doing what he thinks is best. Trying to be the voice of reason. But that’s not what Steve needs now. He needs someone who’s going to help him. Arguing with him is pointless, though. Romanoff says they make such a good team because they’re both so damn stubborn. “Pillows and blankets are in the hall closet. Help yourself.”

            “Hey,” Sam says before Steve can turn to leave. A little bit of Steve’s anger fades when he sees the sincere expression on his friend’s face. “I’m glad he came back, man. Really.”

            Steve nods, but doesn’t say anything, too worried he’ll get choked up.

            He waits in Bucky’s room while the other man showers. It’s only a little bit because he’s worried Bucky might change his mind and try to sneak out the window. It’s mostly because he just wants to be in Bucky’s presence as much as possible. It’s the only way to convince himself that this is really happening.

            It’s almost half an hour before the shower water shuts off and another ten minutes before Bucky leaves the bathroom. Wet hair is hanging in his face and he’s wearing Steve’s clothes and he has to fight the urge again to hug Bucky to his chest and never let go.

            Bucky stops when he sees Steve sitting on the edge of the bed. He can tell Bucky eyes are sweeping the room for potential attacks or exit points. Steve stays as still as possible, not wanting to spook him anymore.

            “Sam is going to be staying on the couch tonight.”

            Bucky runs his metal hand through his wet hair, and Steve forces himself not to watch the metal too closely and not to think about how much he wants to run his hands through Bucky’s hair too. Just like he used to when Bucky had nightmares or was feeling particularly cuddly.

            “Wilson doesn’t trust me,” Bucky states matter-of-factly.

            “He’s just worried about me, Buck.”

            “Good. He should be.” Bucky looks away and won’t meet Steve’s eyes anymore.

            “You gonna hurt me, Buck?” Steve asks quietly, his throat constricting with emotion.

            “Not if I can help it,” He responds honestly, and that’s all Steve needs to know.


	2. First Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update this. I decided to finish the Winterhawk story I was working on first. And that took forever. But now I'm done and my focus is on this story.   
> I'm hoping to update once a week.  
> This chapter is kind of short but it's really just a lead in to other things.   
> Enjoy!

Steve didn't sleep all night. His alarm is going off and his eyes never even closed. Not with Bucky so close. He can't seem to shut his brain off even for a second. He wonders how Bucky's doing. Is he awake? Is he cold? Is he even still there or did he take off again silent as a ghost?

He shakes his head and hits the off button on the clock. He doesn't go for a run because he wants to be there if Bucky needs anything. As he does sit up after sit up, his stomach muscles not even straining, he's reminded of the first morning after they had moved into their apartment together back in their time. It had been nothing like this.

Steve had woken up coughing. It was winter and the cold was seeping through the walls and into his bones. Bucky curled around him and rubbed his back, trying to get his blood flowing, trying to get some kind of warmth into his body. This is very different. A whole new first morning. Now it's Steve worrying about Bucky. Steve wanting to comfort Bucky. Instead he does some more sit ups.

An hour passes and Steve barely breaks a sweat from the light workout on the floor in his bedroom. He suddenly feels sick of his room. He has to get out.

Steve showers quickly and then heads out into the living room. Sam is still asleep on the couch, his chest rising and falling steadily. Steve can detect no sound coming from Bucky's room. The urge to check to see if he's still there is strong, but he ignores it. Part of him doesn't want to know.

Instead he goes to the kitchen and starts pulling out ingredients for omelets. Sam's favorite. It's a thank you, Steve supposes, for having his back. And an apology for making it so difficult.

The apartment is dark. He hadn't turned on any lights so the only illumination comes from the outside. He opens a window as quietly as he can to let in some of the spring air. The streets are still quiet. It's barely 6am.

Steve feels utterly lost. He thought Bucky coming back would set things right again. He thought that finding Bucky would heal the holes inside his heart. It doesn't seem to be working. So what can he do now?

A knock sounds on the door. Before he can even think about moving to open it, the handle jiggles and the door springs open. It's Natasha with an apologetic looking Clint trailing behind her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Steve hisses from his spot in the kitchen doorway.

"I texted her." Steve looks back into the living room to see Sam standing up and stretching. "Figured she should know what's going on."

"I'm just here to talk," Natasha says.

Anger is boiling inside Steve's chest but he clamps down on it. This is no time for hysterics as much as he'd like to give Natasha a piece of his mind. At least no one has told Tony yet, Steve thinks. God, that would be a disaster.

Steve looks at Clint and the archer just shrugs and lets his eyes flicker over to Natasha. He says, "I'm just here for the show."

Steve likes Clint a lot. He’s a good guy. Steve likes him much less so at that moment. Even if he knows the real reason the archer tagged along was to help if there’s trouble. He can’t fault him for wanting to protect Natasha, and he definitely can’t fault him for not owning up to it in front of Natasha. Because Natasha would’ve had his ass on the ground in a second flat.

"This is not the time to do this." Steve puts the eggs back in the fridge. Thanking Sam will have to wait for when he feels like there's something to thank the man for again.

"I disagree," Natasha replies, her facial expression still completely neutral.

"Well, it's a damn good thing you're not in charge then, isn't it?" Steve steps towards her, his eyes narrowing.

She doesn't back down. Natasha never does. "Neither are you."

"I call the shots on this team." Steve meets her glare head on. She's not the only stubborn one in the room. There's no way he's letting her get to Bucky so soon. He has to have time.

"This isn't about the team, Rogers, and you know that. You're compromised. You can't be trusted to make the right calls." Steve looks from Clint to Sam. He doesn't know why he expects them to disagree with her.

Steve sighs, deflating slightly. He's always been compromised when it came to Bucky. "I'm not saying you can't ever talk to him. Just not yet. I don't even know if..."

"He's still here?" A voice comes from behind Steve and everybody's heads turn immediately. His whole body reacts to hearing it. He wants to jump up and down in joy; he wants to cry in relief.

Before he can do anything, Natasha speaks. Her voice seems off when she does, and he wonders if he’s hearing her surprised tone for the first time. "We'll be back at 18:00 hours." She says this to Steve—or at least he thinks she does, he hasn't taken his eyes off of Bucky—and then turns to Bucky. "I have questions."

Bucky nods once and Steve manages to pull his gaze away in time to watch Natasha's back disappear back out the door. Clint smiles and waves before following her.

Steve doesn't know what changed her mind but he couldn't be happier that she did. Maybe it’s the fact that Bucky looks absolutely wrecked. Even after the shower and a night of rest, he still looks like a scared animal, ready to bolt at any moment if he can stay on his feet long enough.

Steve needs to talk to Bucky alone. He needs to figure out what's going on.

Sam's still standing beside him, his posture relaxed in that way that's purposefully relaxed. The way that tells anyone paying enough attention that he's not really relaxed at all. When their eyes meet, he knows exactly what his friend is thinking. He's shocked that Bucky stayed. Part of Steve is too. He half expected to wake up this morning to find the bed empty. Maybe not even slept in.

"Sam..." Steve starts.

"I'll be back at 18:00, too," Sam cuts him off. "Gotta get some clothes and such. Call if you need anything."

Without another word, Sam grabs his duffel bag and leaves. Steve decides that Sam definitely deserves an omelet at some point. He expected his friends to be much more stubborn about this. Sam had made it clear the night before that he didn’t trust Bucky.

Once the door closes behind him, the apartment is quiet. Bucky stands stiller than Clint in his perches. Steve clears his throat. "You hungry?"

"I could eat," Bucky says. His hands are stuffed into the pockets of the sweatpants he's wearing. Steve's sweatpants. His metal arm is catching the glow from the street lights and reflecting it around the room haphazardly. It's kind of beautiful and Steve wonders if he can find a way to draw it.

Moving back into the kitchen, he pulls the eggs out again. "Did ya sleep okay?"

"Well enough."

That was always Bucky code for "not at all" during the war. Steve wonders if it still is.

"You?" Bucky asks him.

"Well enough," he replies.

It's quiet as he goes about cooking the eggs. Bucky stays in the doorway to the kitchen, muscles just slightly tensed, body rocking lightly on the balls of his feet. Ready to take off at a moment’s notice.

Steve doesn't know what to do with the silence. This is new. Bucky used to never shut up. Always rambling on about something or other. Steve could listen to him talk for hours on end. Silence is something he'll have to get used to.

He finishes the eggs and dishes them out on to two plates. Big, heaping servings for both of them. He doesn't know how much Bucky is used to eating but he refuses to let him be hungry for a second. Not now that he can help it.

He gestures for Bucky to sit down. Once they’re both in front of their plates and digging in, he takes a deep breath. "I'm glad you stayed."

Bucky freezes for a minute, his eyes meeting Steve's cautiously. "Me too," he says. The tiniest of smiles turns up the sides of his mouth. "'Cause these eggs are damn good."

Steve huffs, failing to pretend to be annoyed as a grin breaks out on his face. Maybe not everything has changed. 


	3. First Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're starting to get to the good stuff! But please keep in mind, this going to be an insanely slow build. The story is rated explicit but that won't really be accurate until the very last chapter.

Bucky has been living with Steve for almost two weeks now. Sometimes he seems like the same old Bucky that Steve's always known. But in a heartbeat, a switch gets flipped and he's cold, distant, mechanical. The scariest moments are when he stops answering to his name.

Steve does his best to make him comfortable. He gives Bucky space even though all he wants is to be near him all the time and never let the man out of his sight. He keeps it light and friendly. He doesn't push Bucky to talk about what happened. He doesn't try to talk about the past...their past.

As the days tick slowly by, he picks up on the nuances of Bucky's new personality. If he's not talking or smiling, it doesn't mean he's mad or upset like it used to. He likes breakfast food for every meal. He has a compulsory need to clean his weapons every night. He doesn't like to be touched.

The last one is the hardest for Steve. Bucky used to be so touchy, even in non-romantic ways. He just liked having physical contact with the people he cared about. It was something Steve had gotten used to early in life, and the commandos had adjusted to it pretty quickly too. Bucky just liked to touch and be touched.

Now, when all Steve wants to do is hug him, hold him, and feel the warmth of him beneath his fingertips, he has to stay away. It tears him up inside. It feels like this huge gulf between them even though they live in such close quarters. Steve has to battle every instinct he has when they're sitting on the couch together or maneuvering around each other in the kitchen.

But he sees the way Bucky flinches when he gets too close. How his body tenses. So he pushes back his own wants for Bucky's needs. He won't pressure Bucky into anything he doesn't want. Steve is just happy that Bucky's okay and they're together again. If that's all he gets for the rest of his life, it'll be enough.

Tonight is a good night. Bucky is responsive and talking openly. Not just talking, laughing and smiling too. It's nights like these that Steve thinks maybe Bucky didn't really change all that much. But he knows that's not true and is usually reminded of it pretty quickly.

They've settled on the couch, watching shitty westerns, laughing at the terrible acting and unrealistic gun fights. They tried to watch an action movie but Bucky spent the whole time critiquing Jason Bourne's fighting style.

"It's like he's not even trying, Stevie!" He exclaimed as Steve cracked up on the other end of the couch. After that, Steve gave up and switched to something less serious.

For all of his time on ice, Bucky has a pretty good understanding of modernity that constantly surprises Steve. He may not have seen all the latest movies, but he knows how to work a computer easily and he can navigate his way around most big cities easy enough. At least he claims to be able to. They've only put it to a limited test in New York. Letting Bucky roam the streets by himself is still something everyone's worried about. Including Bucky. He trusts himself less than Steve trusts him and will only go out if Sam or Natasha or Clint are with him in addition to Steve.

Now, with him so relaxed on the couch, a smile on his face, and a bowl of popcorn in his lap, Steve has a hard time remembering why any of them are worried at all. He seems perfectly fine.

"Stop staring at me, Stevie," Bucky says just before a piece of popcorn hits him squarely between his eyebrows. Bucky hadn't even turned to look at him.

"Not staring at you, jerk," Steve protests, pouting a little before picking up the piece on popcorn which had fallen in his lap and eating it.

"Sure you weren't, punk." Bucky rolls his eyes before turning to look at Steve. "You were staring at the wall behind my head, right?"

Steve huffs. "I was staring at the popcorn, wondering if you were planning on hogging it all night."

"Maybe I am."

"Better not."

"You're gonna have to pry this damn bowl from my hands." Bucky stretches his arm out, holding the bowl as far away from Steve as he can.

Steve laughs and sits up. "C'mon, Buck. I know your ma taught you to share."

"Well, your ma taught you to let guests have what they want, didn't she?" Bucky stuffs a handful of popcorn in his mouth and raises his eyebrows teasingly.

Steve snorts. "Guest my ass. Guests don't leave their clothes laying all over the damn apartment and eat all the food in your fridge."

"Pretty sure it was you who finished off two pizzas by yourself yesterday so don't go accusing me of eating a lot when you're basically a human embodiment of gluttony."

"I have a fast metabolism!" Steve protests. "Gimme some of the popcorn."

"You haven't even asked nicely." Bucky sticks his nose in the air, looking like he's trying to imitate the snooty women they used to see walking down the street.

"I'll show you nice," Steve says before lunging forward and reaching for the bowl.

What he doesn't anticipate is the way he ends up pressed against Bucky's side, his arm stretched in front of Bucky's chest. He freezes the second he feels Bucky's body tense. He starts to recoil, but Bucky's other hand shoots out suddenly and latches onto Steve's arm as he cries out, "wait!"

Bucky's breaths are jagged and uneven, his chest rising and falling with big huffs. His eyes are closed tight, but his fingers are loose on Steve's arm.

Steve's brain is screaming that he fucked up. Bucky doesn't like to be touched. He knows Bucky doesn't like to be touched. What if he messed up all the progress Bucky has made? But, God, it feels good to touch him. Steve's been starved for it ever since Bucky showed up in his apartment. Even this little bit of contact is like a cool breeze, revitalizing him.

"Buck..." Steve chokes out hoarsely.

"Wait," Bucky cuts him off through gritted teeth. "I need to... I gotta..."

He doesn't finish, but takes a few more deep breaths as his body begins to slowly release some of the tension. Steve doesn't know what is happening, but he doesn't say anything else.

A few minutes pass. The movie plays on but neither of them register it. Steve watches Bucky's face as his friend sorts out whatever it is he's sorting out, careful to not move or even breathe too heavily.

Finally, Bucky's fingers release his arm and his eyes open. Steve drops his arm and pulls away only slightly. He's not sure what happened, but as long as Bucky's going to let him stay close, he will.

"Buck," Steve starts again. "I'm sorry..."

Bucky shakes his head. "No. No, I need to... Uh...the thing is that I'm just so...used to being touched being, being a bad thing, you know? Even though I have memories where it's not. I just... My instincts are that it’s bad so I react like it is even when I don't mean to."

His eyes are wide and he's staring at Steve with desperation. Steve clears his throat. "So, so you want me to...?"

"I want to get used to being touched again," Bucky says slowly. "I don't want to react this way anymore."

Steve nods and sets a shaky, unsure hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Okay, Buck. We'll work on it together."

They start slowly, Steve makes sure to never surprise him, always telegraphing his movements so Bucky knows what's about to happen. Squeezing his arms lightly, sitting close together on the couch so their legs are pressed against each other, letting their shoulders brush against each other as they walk. Each little touch send Steve’s heart racing, but he keeps it slow and watches Bucky’s reactions. On the better days, Bucky can control his reactions. Other days, he can’t.

But it’s all worth it the first time Bucky opens his arms and wraps Steve in a tight hug, his face nuzzling into the crook of Steve’s neck.


	4. First Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short update for you. Enjoy!

Steve wakes up to the sound of screaming. He's out of bed and into the hallway in a heartbeat before his brain can even process it. He knows that scream. He knows exactly who's screaming.

He throws Bucky's bedroom door open, ready for a fight. Only to realize that there's no one in there except for the trembling man in the bed.

A nightmare? That's the only explanation. Bucky's definitely asleep, but he's thrashing and crying out like he's being tortured. Steve wants to vomit at the thought of what Bucky might be reliving in his dream. They've gotten much more comfortable with each other since Bucky came to stay with him, but Bucky never brings up the horrors he lived through while under Hydra's control. Which meant everything is up to Steve's imagination. And Steve has a prolific imagination.

"Buck?" Steve steps towards the bed, unsure what to do but desperate to stop the broken cries coming from his friend. "Bucky."

There's no response. No change in Bucky's state. Steve shuffles closer and leans on the bed with one knee. He reaches across and gently touches Bucky's shoulder.

In an instant, he's on his back on the bed with Bucky's metal hand around his throat and a knee in his chest.

Bucky's eyes widen almost immediately as he reorients himself to the waking world. "Steve?" He jumps off of Steve and to the other side of the room altogether. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

Steve waves his hand in the air to cut Bucky's apology off as he coughs a few times. "Not your fault, Buck," he pushes out. "You were having a nightmare."

Bucky's eyebrows pulled in as his posture started to relax. "I don't remember."

"That may not be such a bad thing," Steve responds. "It didn't sound like you were particularly enjoying it."

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, pulling it out of the bun it's in at the top of his head as he does. His hair falls long and loose around his shoulders. He looks exhausted. "Sorry I woke you."

"It's fine," Steve says, climbing off the bed. "I was already up. Craving a late night snack." It's a lie, and Steve knows that Bucky knows it's a lie, but he also knows that Bucky needs a distraction. "Interested in joining me?"

Bucky nods slowly and follows Steve when he leaves the room. Bucky hasn't looked at him properly since his hand was clasped around Steve's throat. He tries to think of something to put Bucky at ease and reassure his friend that he's not hurt.

Steve used to be good at this. Bucky had nightmares fairly regularly after his encounter with Zola and Steve knew all the best ways to get Bucky out of his head afterwards. The most effective ways involved sex. Obviously, that isn't an option now and Steve's at a loss for how to reach out to this new Bucky.

"Ice cream?" He asks once they're in the kitchen, keeping his tone casual.

"Sure," Bucky says and sits at the table with his metal hand hiding under it as if he's ashamed of it.

Once the ice cream is scooped and set on the table in front of them, Steve clears his throat. "Want to talk about it?"

He never used to like talking about these kinds of things, but maybe he does now.

"No." Or maybe not.

Steve takes a deep breath, trying to think of another tactic. After a minute, he just reaches out under the table and squeezes Bucky's metal hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. Bucky flinches at first, but then squeezes back and finally meets Steve's gaze. The destroyed look in his eyes makes Steve want to tear the world down to punish all the people who hurt him.

They finish their ice cream in silence, never letting go of each other's hands. When he's done, Bucky drops his head onto Steve's shoulder in exhaustion.

"You think you'll be able to sleep again?" Steve asks quietly.

Bucky shrugs awkwardly with his head still resting on Steve.

"You should at least try," Steve says.

Bucky sighs and stands, releasing Steve's hand and heads towards his bedroom. Steve wishes he knew what to say. He hates feeling useless and he's felt useless more often than not since Bucky moved in.

He follows Bucky to the bedroom but stops in the door and watches as Bucky pulls his hair back into a bun again. Steve opens his mouth and closes it again. Everything he thinks of to say sounds stupid before it even comes out of his mouth.

Finally, he sighs and steps back from the doorway, "well, g'night, Buck."

"Stevie?" Bucky's voice is quiet. If Steve didn't have super-hearing. He might not have heard him at all. When he turns back, Bucky has his arms wrapped around himself and his eyes flick back and forth between Steve and the bed. "Will you stay?"

"Oh." Steve would definitely be lying if he says he isn't surprised. "Yeah, of course, Buck. If you want me to."

Bucky nods once and climbs into the bed, leaving room for Steve on one side. Steve slides under the cover next to him slowly, unsure what exactly Bucky wants. That question is answered a second later when Bucky wraps his arms around Steve's waist and buries his face in Steve's chest, his eyes tightly closed. Steve's heart feels like it's going to explode with affection. He pulls the blanket farther up over them and wraps his arms around Bucky, holding him close and nuzzling his hair. It reminds him of so many nights before, but it's also entirely new. The cold of Bucky's metal arm that he can feel through his shirt. Bucky's long hairs escaping the bun and tickling his face. Hard muscle in places Bucky used to be soft.

Despite all the differences, it's perfect and Steve thanks god or fate or sheer dumb luck for bringing them back together as Bucky's breathing evens out and he drifts off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is first kiss! :D


	5. First Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First kiss as promised! Enjoy!

Bucky's having a good day. Steve wonders what triggered this good mood. He wonders how he can make sure all of Bucky's days are this good. Warmth floods his chest every time Bucky smiles or laughs.

Bucky is leaning against his side as they watch a movie with Clint, who has taken it on himself to get both of them up to date on the world of film. They've been spending more and more evenings like this, curled together on the couch with their friends around them. Sometimes Sam or Natasha join them for movie nights, but tonight it's just Clint, and Steve thinks that might be part of the reason Bucky is feeling so relaxed. He's taken a shine to Clint in a way he hasn't with any of the rest of Steve's team. Natasha's mere presence sets him on edge and Sam spends too much time trying to analyze him. With the best intentions, of course. When he finally met Tony for the first time, he said that Tony was his father times one hundred percent. And Bucky had never particularly liked Howard.

Steve revels in being able to be so close to Bucky. He can basically touch Bucky whenever he wants now without his friend pulling away. He can’t fight the smile plastered on his face the whole night.

When the credits roll, Clint stands and stretches. "I better get out of here. Natasha's supposed to be back tonight and y'all know what that means." At their blank expressions, he grins mischievously and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Post mission sex, of course."

Steve and Bucky both groan, and Bucky throws an empty paper cup at him. Clint just laughs when it bounces of his chest to the ground.

Once he's gone, Bucky shifts and lays back across Steve's lap with his head on Steve's leg. Their hands find each other and intertwine on Bucky's stomach. Steve's never felt as content as he does when he looks down at Bucky's open, happy expression.

Suddenly, Bucky laughs. "You've got charcoal on your face, Stevie."

"What? Where?" Steve's free hand goes to his face. He had been sketching just before Clint showed up with a Redbox in his hand and a six pack of beer. More and more hours had started disappearing over the last few weeks with him immersed in a drawing. More often than not, the subject was Bucky.

"No, this side." Bucky lifts his hand and taps Steve's cheek.

Steve rubs his hand over the spot Bucky touched and it comes away with a dark smear. "Did I get it?"

Bucky's still smiling as he shakes his head. Steve'll draw all over his whole face if it means Bucky'll keep smiling like that.

"Nah, you just smeared it everywhere." Bucky swipes his tongue over his finger and sits up a bit more. "C'mere."

His thumb runs across Steve's cheek purposefully a few times, but Steve barely notices because he's lost the ability to breathe. All at once, Bucky seems to notice their position, his hand stilling and eyes darkening as they meet Steve's before sweeping downwards.

Shit, they're really close together. The atmosphere in the room shifts in a single moment. Steve sucks in a breath as Bucky's finger moves from his cheek to swipe over his lower lip. Bucky's eyes are transfixed on Steve's lips and all Steve can think about is kissing him but there's no way he's making that move. It has to be Bucky.

The air between them crackles as Bucky thinks. He takes a deep breath and when he exhales, Steve can feel the warmth of it on his face. He strains to keep his body in place. Bucky's metal thumb settles on the corner of his mouth.

"I think I used to like kissing you," Bucky says. His voice is clear and steady but his wording hints at the insecurity he feels. The way his hand trembles on Steve's face reveals the battle going on inside of him. "I think I liked it a lot."

Steve swallows thickly. "Yeah. You did."

"Tell me," Bucky demands, his eyes still entirely focused on Steve's lips.

"S-sometimes, back when I was little, you'd pick me up and set me on the counter in our kitchen. 'Cause I liked being in control, you know? So you'd let me be the bigger one for a while. Let me grab at your hair and hold you still." Steve's voice trembles as he talks. He's avoided the topic of their past so deliberately that it feels weird to talk about it now. Like he's breaking a rule. He doesn’t know what Bucky’s expecting, or wanting, to hear either, making it hard to form his words. This moment could be so easily ruined and he doesn’t know if he’d ever be able to forgive himself for that. "But other times, I would want you to hold me. You're the only one I ever let see me like that. Small and...and vulnerable and all that. You would kiss me like I was breakable. You always seemed to know whether I needed to be big or small."

"And after?" Bucky presses when Steve hesitates, his voice raw with emotion.

"After I changed, you said..." Steve clears his throat and swallows, and Bucky's eyes cut to his bobbing Adam's apple before pulling back up to his lips. "You said that it was kissing me that convinced you I really was...well, me, you know? You said that everything else about my body might've changed but kissing me was the same. My lips were the sa--"

He's cut off as Bucky lunges forward, closing the few inches between them and pressing their mouths together. Steve lets out a broken noise as those lips, so familiar but new in so many ways, brush against his own. It feels like his chest is caving in and exploding at the same time. Steve has to force his hands to stay resting where they are, responding to the kiss only by applying his own pressure against Bucky's mouth because he's terrified of spooking him. 

Both of Bucky's hands are on his face now, cupping his jaw as his lips are pushed open by Bucky's tongue.

The kiss is forceful, demanding, but filled with the same sense of confidence that Bucky always used to have. If this is a dream, Steve never wants to wake up.

All of sudden, Bucky pulls away and Steve bites back a whimper. He's been waiting so long for this moment, he doesn't know what he'll do if Bucky runs away or says it was a mistake.

"I'm sorry," Bucky says, surprising Steve. "I didn't mean to..."

"No," Steve cuts him off. "Don't apologize. Don't ever apologize for that."

"You want...this?" Bucky asks skeptically. Steve can see the disbelief in his eyes and wonders how long it will take to fight back all the self-loathing that Bucky has built up.

"Of course I do, Buck." Steve leans forward and rubs his nose against Bucky's gently. "I always will."

"Even though I'm not, you know, what I used to be?" Bucky's voice is a quiet whisper; his breath warm on Steve's face.

"I love you, Bucky," Steve says, lifting his hand to hold Bucky's chin so he can look into his eyes. "How you were then and how you are now. Every part of you. No matter what."

Bucky searches Steve's gaze for something. Steve doesn't know what he finds, but suddenly they're kissing again, Bucky’s chapped lips slanting over his with even more desperation than last time. His hands grip Bucky's waist as strong hands move through his hair.

Steve lets Bucky take control. It's messy and frantic, not practiced the way it used to be. They're going to have to get used to each other again. Learn each other's instincts the way they knew each other before. It's new, different, but it reflects everything they've been through.

When they break apart, both breathing heavily and still holding onto each other tightly, Bucky says, "I love you, too, Stevie."


	6. First Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is pretty short, but it's Bucky's PoV so that's fun.

Bucky stumbles into the kitchen bleary-eyed and still half asleep. The sun is just coming up and Steve's going to be back from his run any minute. Coffee. Bucky needs coffee.

He finds what he needs and starts brewing a pot, strong like Steve likes it. At this point, Bucky's able to find everything he wants in the kitchen without a second thought. It's weird. He never expected to feel so comfortable in a place again. So at home.

He's leaning on the counter with his head laying on his crossed arms willing the coffee to brew faster when he hears the door open. Steve is back.

"Morning, Buck." Steve crosses into the kitchen, barely even panting after his run. "Making me some coffee?"

"No. Mine," Bucky grumbles back, lifting his head slightly to scowl at Steve. "My coffee. All of it. All my coffee."

Steve chuckles and leans in for a kiss, but Bucky makes a protesting noise and pushes back on his shoulder. "You stink. Go take a shower and then we can talk about the kissing."

Steve grins that thousand watt grin at him and the sight of it makes his chest ache. This is going to be a bad day, he can already tell.

By the time Steve gets out of the shower, Bucky is sitting with his legs crossed on the couch with a cup of coffee in his hand, his computer on his lap, and headphones covering his ears. Steve doesn't even take the time to put on a shirt and his chest is still glistening with water when he leans down to press two quick, chaste kisses to Bucky's lips. Bucky drinks in the softness of the kiss, ignoring that voice in his head telling him it's wrong.

"What are you listening to?" Steve asks, turning his attention to Bucky's computer.

"Hozier?" Bucky responds.

"Oh, yeah. Did Clint send that to you? He's obsessed with this guy." Steve sits next to him on the couch and reaches over, pulling the headphones out of their jack on the computer. He hits play on a certain song and presses another kiss to Bucky's cheek. "This one's my favorite."

Bucky watches Steve stand and walk towards the kitchen as the music starts, the slow thump of the beat seeming to take over his heartbeat. Without giving himself time to second guess it, he stands and follows Steve, stopping him before he pours his coffee. He pulls lightly on Steve's hand and says, "dance with me, Stevie."

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but seems to decide against it, taking Bucky's hand and leading him back into the living room instead.

_No grave can hold my body down..._

The beat's not really right for a waltz but they do it anyway, setting their own pace based on what feels right, what feels most natural. Bucky takes the steps on instinct. He can't really say that he remembers the dancing he used to do in the dance halls and with all those girls, but he remembers this. He remembers dancing with Steve in their apartment late at night without any music playing so as to not wake any one up. Steve was never a bad dancer, he just didn't know how to lead. But now it seems that neither of them are leading. They're just moving to the rhythm of each other, soaking up each other's presence.

_I crawl home to her..._

Bucky clings to Steve, trying to get closer and closer until there's no space between them and their waltzing has turned into simply swaying back and forth. Steve kisses him, and that familiar ache in his chest starts back up. That voice gets going. This isn't right. He doesn't deserve this. It's all an allusion. Some kind of fantasy he's thought up and it can't last. Why would kind, sweet, good Steve ever want him? He better enjoy it now because pretty soon it's all going to come crashing down.

Steve's hair is still wet from the shower and dripping on Bucky's hand where it's rests on the back of his neck. But it's grounding in a way and really the only thing keeping Bucky's head on straight.

The soft lips on his are suddenly gone and making their way across his jaw and down his neck. He tips his head back equally to give Steve better access and to try to keep the tears in his eyes from falling. He grips Steve's shoulder a little tighter.

The song changes but neither of them really notice. The rhythm of their swaying remains steady and Steve continues the trail of wet, hot kisses across Bucky's skin. It's overwhelming and Bucky gasps suddenly, realizing that he's stopped breathing altogether. He drops his forehead to Steve's shoulder and can't stop a few of the tears from sliding out.

"Stevie," he says breathlessly, his hand tightening on the back of Steve's neck. "Stevie, Stevie, Stevie."

The arm still around his waist constricts even more. "I'm here, Buck. I got ya."

He feels the hot breath pushed out with each word on his neck and it's a sharp contrast to the cold water still dripping on him from Steve's hair. It shakes him a little and he gasps out, "I'm sorry, Stevie. I'm sorry."

He lifts his head to kiss Steve again, but he barely gets their lips pressed together before Steve is pulling back. A thumb swipes over his cheek, wiping away the evidence of his breakdown.

"What are you apologizing for, Buck?" Steve asks, his nose rubbing up against Bucky's.

"I'm broken," he responds. "I can't help it and I can't make it better."

Steve fixes that determined look on Bucky. "You're not broken, Buck. You're just still figuring things out."

Bucky is shaking his head before Steve even stops talking, but he can't form any more words. He's getting swallowed up from the inside. The darkness eats at his soul as he sinks down into it. These are the worst days. He's sure he won't be able to scratch and claw his way back out this time so he clings to Steve even tighter, burying his face in Steve's neck.

They stand there for a while. Hours, maybe. The music has long stopped, but Steve hasn't wavered, hasn't complained, hasn't moved.

Bucky feels spent, empty. His metal arm feels too tight, protesting the lack of movement. Steve's thumb runs up and down Bucky's spine slowly. The rhythm brings Bucky back to himself a bit, dispels a few shadows.

Without any prompting, or any forewarning, Bucky takes a step, starting their dance again. No music. Just like in the old days. Steve moves with him easily, naturally, and Bucky thinks maybe he can see a light in the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Comments and kudos make me smile!!


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